


the intimacy of Sherlock and John

by ababadaboop



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Kissing, M/M, Smut, That's it, it's just smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 18:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9283784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ababadaboop/pseuds/ababadaboop
Summary: companion to my other tiny fic "a study in Sherlock and John." this one's being posted separate so the other can keep its teen rating. everybody should enjoy fluff. but here's the goodies.





	

It's one of the first times Sherlock kisses John in the way that flushes his cheeks and steals his breath until John gets that fiery spark in his eye that makes Sherlock breathless from just a look. Sherlock cups his hand around John's neck and kisses him, kisses him so deeply until they breathe together. John moans softly into Sherlock's mouth and Sherlock feels a turn low in his abdomen that prompts him to pull John close, hands in hair and on shoulders until John's hand slides up his shirt and Sherlock gasps.

"John, what-"

"You started this, Sherlock, don't you dare back out on me now," he says, voice low and fast and the look in his eyes  _oh god_ and Sherlock's cock twitches in his pants. John chuckles, low and dark, so predatory that Sherlock can't help but step back. John goes after him, step by step until Sherlock's back hits the wall and the breath is knocked out of him. John's hands crawl up his chest, which is rising and falling with each breath he takes. John unbuttons Sherlock's shirt button by button, breath by breath, eyes raking over every inch of skin he uncovers. Sherlock's breaths are shallow, air huffing out from his lips at regular intervals. John drags the shirt off Sherlock's arms, silky fabric sliding down his arms in increments of what feels like millimetres. Sherlock swallows with head tipped back and John lets out a sound reminiscent of a growl and goes straight for Sherlock's neck. As lips, teeth, tongue touch his neck, John's chest slides up against his, knitted jumper dragging across skin and his erection pressing up between Sherlock's legs. Sherlock should be embarrassed by the moan he lets out but  _God_ it feels so good he can't be bothered to care.

"God, I would have you right here, against this wall," John growls, nipping at Sherlock's collarbone. Sherlock whimpers.

"Hh-hah. Um, bedroom. Mmm..."

"Right." He stretches up to plant a rushed kiss on Sherlock's lips before stripping his jumper off in one go as they, holding hands and pulling each other along, make their way to the bedroom. Lips locked together, they fall onto the bed, Sherlock pinned under John's weight. They pull back, eyes wild and dark, bare chests heaving together, ribs pressing against each other's, and John straddles Sherlock's hips and leans in to kiss him. Sherlock grinds his erection up into John's, drawing a moan from both of them synchronously.

"God, you beautiful, beautiful man," John murmurs, thumb brushing over the nub of Sherlock's nipple.

"Oh," Sherlock moans. " _God_ , John, you're - ah - so good, oh..." and John laughs, sinister, almost, and slides his other hand down to the button of Sherlock's trousers. He fumbles with that and the zipper, sits up to undo his own, and Sherlock kicks his trousers onto the floor, the end of the bed, he doesn't know or care. John yanks his own off, along with his pants, good god, and crawls back up to loom over Sherlock.

"Tell me- tell me what you want, Sherlock, what do you want?"

"I- fuck."

"That's certainly an option. We'll start slow, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah. Kiss me, John, please," and he does, kneeling so his thighs push Sherlock's up to his own chest, and his hand slips down again, this time to take off Sherlock's pants. His eyes go straight to Sherlock's cock, which is stiff and red against his stomach.

"John, please," he murmurs.

"Please what?"

"Oh god, I don't know, anything."

"Anything?" John asks, slinking down until his face is right near Sherlock's hip.

"Yes, yes, anything, John, please," and then "Oh!" as John's mouth slides down onto his cock, hands sliding up his thighs and fingers tracing over his hipbones.  _Iliac crest,_ Sherlock thinks, but it's so hard to think, god, with John's mouth so soft and wet and slick hot warm sliding pleasure dear _god_ where did he  _learn_ this? Never mind that,

"John. John, John, stop."

"Something wrong?" moving back up to his face and kissing his cheek.

"No, no, no, I- too close."

John laughs again, that dark, sweet chuckle, and Sherlock kisses him, lips of center and teeth clashing but he doesn't  _care._

"Sherlock," John says, so low, lower than Sherlock knew that voice could go, "I need you to tell me what you want."

"Oh, I- in the drawer there, there's lube, can- can you get it?"

"'Course, love, he replies, reaching over Sherlock for it.

"God, you're brilliant," slips from Sherlock's lips. "Such a brilliant man."

"Thank you, love," accompanied by the pop of the cap. Barely moments later, John's fingers, cold and slick with lube, touch gently at Sherlock's hole. "This okay?"

"Yes, yes, please, John, I-  _oh_ _!"_ because John's slipped his first finger in, circling it and turning it  _just so_ and crooking it-  _"John!"_ moaned loudly, so loudly, followed by  John's laugh.

"Your prostate, love," fingertip back and forth over the bump nerves singing and head thrown back  _so good, John._ "So beautiful," he murmurs. "God, Sherlock, you're so beautiful." but Sherlock can't utter a single syllable, just "John," soft or loud he doesn't know, moaned for sure, and John  _slides_ a second finger in alongside the first and Sherlock cries out, back arched away from the mattress, head thrown back, hands gripping into the sheets as John leans to kiss him again he _  
_

"can't hold on much longer John, so close,  _so close,"_

"'S okay love, I am too. You can come, love, come for me,  _Sherlock"_ last word cried out and Sherlock's shouting John's name, come spilling over his stomach from himself and onto his thigh from John, so sweet, better than any high he's ever had, so good, so good,

"so good, John, so good, thank you..."

John's fingers slide out of him, slowly, and he kisses Sherlock, long and sweet and loving. "You're welcome, love."

"'Love'?" Sherlock smiles, laying on his side now looking into John's eyes.

"Of course, 'love.' Why wouldn't I call you love if I love you?"

"I don't know, John. But I love you too."

"I love you," John repeats, a whisper, and he kisses Sherlock so deeply Sherlock can feel a little ache in his chest.

"And I love you, too."


End file.
